


this fleeting dream of peace

by reluminous



Series: from the shadows of the vhenadahl tree [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 08:41:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26969179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reluminous/pseuds/reluminous
Summary: Before, during, and after Ostagar.
Relationships: Duncan/Female Tabris (Dragon Age)
Series: from the shadows of the vhenadahl tree [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1955500
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

Kallian is unsurprised, though disappointed, when Duncan becomes distant after Ser Aveline's intervention. Even on horseback, when they are pressed together because Kallian and the horse they are riding have not yet come to terms, he maintains a stiff composure to offer her some kind of gentlemanly courtesy.

It doesn't help that Ser Aveline makes a point to ride with them in the late morning until the company takes its first break. She exchanges tense greetings with Duncan, and then spends the rest of her time with them chatting with Kallian. Kallian is aware that it is another of Ser Aveline's ways of demonstrating where her alliance is, but it is no burden. Ser Aveline is an easy conversationalist, interested in anything Kallian has to say and careful not to ask any questions that are too invasive, willing to share about herself and politely ignore Kallian's half-answers when Kallian finds she cannot bear to answer entirely truthfully and yet is unwilling to lie.

Ser Aveline, it seems, is on her way to Ostagar to reunite with her husband. In fact, she isn't from Lothering at all, only stationed there in preparation for the coming battle. Her husband's name is Wesley, Kallian learns, and is a templar—Kallian has to stifle surprise, for she hadn't known templars could marry—and they had been reunited once already in Lothering, but Wesley had gone to Ostagar ahead of her with the rest of the Templar Order.

The runner girl from last night, who goes by the name Teddy, rides alongside Ser Aveline on a pony of her own. She waggles her eyebrows at Kallian and says suggestively, "Ser is looking forward to _reuniting_ with him again, if you know what I mean, which I think you do, Miss Elf." She pauses dramatically and then adds, just in case Kallian doesn't, "You know. Chantfully." She waggles her eyebrows again.

Kallian estimates her age to be about sixteen. She has enough experience with sixteen-year-olds to not be flustered by such comments and she'd already known that Teddy was aware of the nature of her relationship with Duncan, so she only nods.

Ser Aveline clearly does not share the same disaffectedness. "Teddy!" she cries, mortified, a fetching pink rising in her cheeks. Suddenly she cannot look Kallian in the eye. Duncan is carefully staring ahead, pretending as though he cannot hear the conversation happening around him. "You're not— _wrong_ , exactly, but—"

"Ser, one day you're going to thank me," Teddy says cheerfully. "A big, tough knight such as your ladyship can't be blushing every time someone brings up her happy marriage to such a handsome templar fellow like his, uhh, templarship." She addresses Kallian again. "It's unbelievable the things the ser can listen to without batting an eye, but even hint at her nuptials and suddenly she's a blushing maiden! Mad, that is."

"I'm not used to it, is all," Ser Aveline says, after regaining some of her composure, though her cheeks are still rosy. "It's been less than a year since we wed."

"Oh, but they've been together for years," Teddy tells Kallian eagerly. She winks. "Less than Chantfully, of course."

"Teddy!"

"Begging your pardon, ser," Teddy says calmly, clearly not inclined to do anything of the sort. "I only meant they were in love before they married. It's a very romantic story, you know, Miss Elf, with all sorts of drama and intrigue. It's a storyteller's dream, really, if you'd like to hear it."

"Teddy," Ser Aveline says again lowly.

"Ah," Teddy says. Her eyes don't betray her by looking at Duncan or at Kallian's hands clutched at Duncan's sides to steady herself against the rocking of the horse, but Kallian knows now that neither of them have missed the two-set of rings on her ring finger.

"You're a storyteller, Teddy?" Kallian asks, ignoring the meaning-laden pause. "I know a storyteller back in the Alienage. He loves a good romantic story. Maybe I can take this one back to him someday." She's not lying, exactly. Alarith does love a good story.

"Well," Teddy says, beaming, "I certainly can't disappoint him, can I? Now then, where did it begin again, ser? Right, you'd just gotten your commission as an officer in the Ferelden army—"

Duncan instructs her in archery during the break and then when he has deemed her progress acceptable for the day, disappears while she continues to practice until the break comes to an end and the entire company begins packing up to move again.

_One more day_ , she thinks grimly at the now familiar pain, clinging onto Duncan's back, and tries not to fall off the stupid horse. The hours seem much longer without Ser Aveline and Teddy's company, but she understands that Ser Aveline is needed elsewhere. It wouldn't be so terrible if Duncan wasn't acting so cold, but Kallian won't beg for his attention.

By the time the day is over and they're setting up camp, Kallian is glad that there is only half a day more to test her willpower on that. Travel is _boring_ without conversation. On the bright side, she is no longer dreading their arrival at Ostagar, she supposes. There's always a silver lining.

Kallian manages to pitch in this time to set up their tent and bedrolls, and Teddy comes by with their bowls of gruel. When Kallian's done eating, she sets her bowl down by Duncan and escapes into their tent to avoid the tense silence. Despite the lingering discomfort from the day of riding and her anticipation for the next day, she's asleep in minutes.

It makes it all the more bewildering when she awakens abruptly in the middle of the night, her instincts causing her to quickly roll into a crouched position that will allow her to defend herself if she needs. After a few moments taking stock, Kallian realizes that the camp is calm and the distressed noises that disturbed her slumber are coming from Duncan. She carefully tucks her weapons away safely.

Duncan is jerking and shivering, frenzied breaths being torn from his lungs, as if he wants to scream but he cannot. A strange glint on his face in the little light that makes it through the canvas of the tent is either sweat or tears, Kallian cannot tell. Night terrors? Duncan gasps in a breath and lets out a low, pained groan.

"Duncan," Kallian whispers. She does not reach out to shake him awake like she wants. If she, untrained and inexperienced with real danger as she is, instinctively defended herself when woken unexpectedly, she has no idea what he might do. "Duncan!"

He doesn't seem to hear her. Helplessly, she watches as his body contorts and he flails, still making those fearful sounds. Finally, his eyes fly open and he sits up, clutching at his head. He doesn't seem to notice her awake.

She allows him a moment to gather himself before she quietly asks, "Bad dreams?"

Duncan whirls around to look at her. She holds herself perfectly still until he lets out his breath and runs his hands through his hair. He's taken it down, she sees now. It curls around his face, making him look younger and more approachable than usual. "Something like that," he says cryptically. "You will understand soon enough."

Some trick of the Grey Warden? Or because of the nightmares darkspawn might bring? Kallian doesn't ask about that. "May I touch you?" she asks instead.

He flinches away. "Kallian—"

"Duncan," she says back, letting her tone go slightly mocking. "What happened to respecting my decisions?"

Duncan won't meet her eyes. "I was reminded that my responsibilities take precedence."

Kallian just watches him for a long moment. "Please?" So much for not begging, she thinks wryly to herself.

He sighs. Kallian inches towards him on her knees, until she is at his side and she can put her arms carefully around his shoulders, pull him into an embrace that has his nose pressing against the pulse point on her neck, his breath soft and shallow against her skin. Eventually, he wraps an arm around her back, just holding her.

"There is so little time left," Duncan murmurs, so quietly she can barely hear him even pressed close as they are. "I just…" He lifts his head to look Kallian in the face, and then leans up to brush his lips against hers. Kallian lets him pull away before she traps his face in her hands and gives him a deeper, more thorough kiss. She really doesn't intend for it to go much further than that, but then Duncan slides a hand up her shirt to cup one of her breasts.

She breaks the kiss with a huff of surprise. "Weren't you too busy beating yourself up to touch me?" she asks.

He smiles a little. "Yes." He presses a few butterfly kisses to her collarbone. "I apologize. I will make up for it now, if you are not opposed."

Kallian pulls off her shirt instead of rolling her eyes at him, hiding a smile at the small catch in his breath.

This time, it is more like naked kissing than anything else. Duncan gets his shirt off as well, but pulls her down to lay on top of him as they kiss, pulling her hips in to grind against him, their hands running over each other almost reverently. Eventually they manage to get their pants off too, but even then it's just lazy, languid movements until the lightning is right on top of her before she even realizes, less of a comet and more of a rolling wave that leaves her gasping.

Duncan rolls them over so he is over her and ruts almost absently against her thigh, not seeming particularly focused on reaching his peak, more focused on kissing her senseless. He's quite successful.

Kallian slides her fingers through the thick hair on his chest, amused when her fingers get caught a couple times, and then uses her hands on him again until he's got forehead pressed hard against hers, breath gusty against her face, both of their gazes caught hotly on her hands moving over him. "Kallian," he says, startling her a little. He's never said her name like that before, and never said it at all while they were like this.

"Duncan," she tries, her voice automatically matching the same breathless tone. How strange and yet oddly scintillating. She likes the sound of it between them as he squeezes his eyes shut. She wants it again. "Duncan."

He groans and spurts over her hands, his forehead sliding off his as his limbs go weak and he lands on top of her, catching himself last minute before he crushes her smaller body.

"I did well, then," she says, pleased with herself.

He chuckles into her ear, a sound she has sorely missed this last day, and lifts himself up and uses the sleeve of his shirt to quickly clean the both of them up. "Yes," Duncan says, amused. "Certainly I have no complaints." He pulls his pants on and tosses his ruined shirt in the direction of his pack, stealing her blanket from her bedroll and wrapping himself in it before sliding under his own.

"Thief," Kallian accuses without heat as she pulls her own clothing back on. He looks startled for a moment, then presses his hand over his mouth hard to muffle laughter. Astonished, she watches as mirthful tears gather at the corners of his eyes and stream down his face.

When he's calmed down, he lifts the edge of his own blanket in invitation to join him. She finds this exchange acceptable, and tamps down on her curiosity. She is too tired for stories now.

He is very warm, and when Duncan pulls her into his chest, she presses her ear against his heart and listens to it beat, comforted by the steady rhythm of it.

"One last night," he whispers against the top of her head and presses a kiss there, too.

She closes her eyes and goes to sleep again.


	2. Chapter 2

Kallian wakes up to Duncan's beard tickling her face. When she grumbles and tucks her face further into his chest to avoid it, it tickles more intently and she realizes that Duncan is awake and teasing her. She reaches one hand up to shove his face away without opening her eyes, one finger catching on a nostril.

Duncan flips her out of the blankets and off of the bedroll, snorting in amusement when she yelps at the sudden cold.

"It is early yet," he says when she squints towards the opening of the tent. "However, I thought we might do some extra training before we begin the last leg of our journey."

She nods tiredly and blinks the sleep out of her eyes as she begins putting on her armor and helps pack up. Today is archery again. Kallian supposes he's given up on her being any help on the front lines of the battlefield, which is probably for the best.

Ser Aveline has what could be called a _bounce in her step._ She's practically glowing as she gives out her orders. Her men are careful not to look her in the eyes, their mouths pinched as if they are trying not to laugh, and Teddy is flat-out smirking at her side. Once, when she thinks no one is watching, Ser Aveline presses her hand to her chest and lets out a soft sigh.

"Ser Aveline," Kallian says, amused and sheepish from her elbow. She'd wanted to thank the lady knight one last time before they were all on the road, but perhaps her timing could have been better.

Ser Aveline does not jump, but it is clearly a near thing. "Oh, Kallian," she says, and flushes. "I was just…contemplating logistics."

"Of course," Kallian says, straight-faced but with amusement bubbling in her lungs. Ser Aveline _is_ getting better at this, even if she's still rather transparent. "I only wanted to thank you for all of your help."

"Oh," Ser Aveline says, her eyes going soft. "No. It was no trouble. I only wish there were more I could do."

There likely is. Ser Aveline seems the sort to have good, loyal friends that could be brought to bear upon the injustices that Kallian's people face. Kallian wonders if her kindness could ever extend that far. Maybe not now, not with the uncertainty of the future in the face of a Blight, but perhaps if they survive, who knows? Ser Aveline might continue to rise in the ranks of the army, make more and more powerful friends, become the sort of implacable force in Ferelden that could shape a greater future for the vulnerable and the helpless.

Kallian doesn't know and she doesn't like to put stock in what might be. All she can do is look at the here and now and act accordingly.

"I have met few humans that are as trustworthy or as generous as you have been to me," Kallian says. "May the Maker watch over you and judge that your sword and shield be as mighty and impenetrable as the sun so as you might rise again a thousand times."

It is not the usual Andrastian platitude; it is one of Kallian's own impulsive creation, combining a common invocation of the Maker with a piece of elven lore told to her as a child.

"I, oh," Ser Aveline says, puzzled but gratifyingly moved by it. "Thank you."

Kallian nods and returns to Duncan's side.

"Are you ready?" he asks her.

"As I can be," she replies.

The two of them leave their horses and borrowed tent with Ser Aveline and her company, Duncan leading the way to the Grey Warden tent. That is where the king waylays them, sparkling with excitement when he sees Duncan, the force of his good-natured charisma combined with the loftiness of his position leaving Kallian a little speechless.

It is clear that he is one raised on heroic stories of Grey Wardens. His enthusiasm extends even to herself; he even, bewilderingly, inquires with what seems to be like genuine interest about the Alienage in Denerim.

"I'd…rather not speak of it," Kallian manages. What else can she say? That she killed one of his nobles for raping her cousin? Kallian would _like_ to say that, but she doesn't have enough surety in her position or his goodwill to expect to not be cut down for speaking with such candor to a king.

"One day I'll take those walls down! Your people have suffered enough," King Cailan proclaims in response to this, which is truly incredible. It is as if he lives in a dream where things can be easy and go exactly as he says simply because he said them.

Just as suddenly as he appears, he is gone again, and Kallian is left only with a resigned-looking Duncan.

 _That was the king?_ she wants to ask him. _Are you certain? He acts like a child blinded by a dream._ Are all humans with power so cavalier and unrealistic? How do they get anything done?

Kallian stares after King Cailan for a long moment as he walks away, watching the protective circle of people close around him.

If she could have enclosed Shianni in a circle like that, would Shianni have become as bright and foolish as that?

Kallian's heart sinks a little. She'd tried to do that for Shianni, at least. Had it done more harm than good? They are not men or kings or humans; foolishness takes a greater toll on them if they make a mistake, if they anger the wrong person. Kallian had always managed to keep Shianni out of trouble until she'd taken a bottle—in front of witnesses!—and knocked out a terrible human man capable of much, with powerful friends who encouraged it.

In another world, Shianni's actions may have been seen as just. Maybe in that world someone would have stopped Vaughan before he ever laid a hand on any of them, before he'd even stepped foot in the Alienage. Maybe someone other than two elves inexperienced with fighting would have come for four elven woman trapped and waiting to be violated by three human men acting with impunity.

This is not that world.

Kallian swallows down the envy that crawls up her throat, turning to Duncan just as he starts talking about a ritual.

"Can I get a hot meal first, at least?" she manages to ask.

Duncan chuckles, the sound soothing her nerves.

Duncan leaves her to her own devices after giving her instructions to find a man named Alistair. Kallian makes it only a few steps into the camp before she runs into Nessa.

Truthfully, it is more like Nessa runs into her, crashing into her side with such velocity that Kallian is actually knocked off her feet.

"Oh! Oh no, not again! I'm so sorry, er, ah, ser? I'm sorry, this is all still very new to me, I keep forgetting which kind of armor means what—Kallian? What are you doing here?"

Kallian's mouth has fallen open. She shuts it quickly and scrambles to her feet, heat rising in her cheeks at her own lack of grace. Quite an impression to make upon entrance to the Ostagar camp. At least the Grey Wardens of Ferelden are too busy entertaining His Majesty, according to the soldier she'd spoken to.

She says, "Nessa," and not much more before Nessa looks down at the package at their feet and then lets out a shriek, grabbing it.

"Never mind that, Kallian! I have to deliver this quickly! We can talk later—I'll find you somehow." Then Nessa is off like a whirlwind.

The interaction leaves her off-kilter, honestly. Nessa is around the same age as Soris, and the two of them had played together enough as children that Kallian has a fairly good impression of her as being sweet and diligent, not the type to make any trouble. She's never seen Nessa quite so flustered.

She can't believe she had forgotten she might see Nessa here. Kallian had talked to her father before they'd left, but Nessa had kept to herself, unusually shy and reserved, and Kallian had put the whole thing out of her mind. Such things often happened in the Alienage, especially of late. Many have left the Alienage in the last few years, seeking work wherever they could find it. It had been sad to see Nessa leave on her wedding day of all days, but she'd just accepted it, taking for granted her own place there.

Discomfited, Kallian seeks out a quiet spot, avoiding the two glaring guards standing at the front of the most impressive tents and drifts vaguely towards the—well, what turns out to be the kennels, and gets roped into helping take care of a mabari.

Kallian's hands shake a little as she puts the collar on. It's from being overwhelmed by the camp, by the shock of meeting Nessa unexpectedly, and because Kallian has never been so close to a mabari before. Mabari are war dogs, bred specially, and more expensive than anything an elf could ever hope to afford. She has heard that a single mabari costs more than a year's worth of salaries for an entire household staff of a mid-sized estate. She isn't sure if she's more afraid that the mabari will hurt her or if she's more afraid she might hurt it and never be able to pay back its value.

Luckily, it goes fine. The mabari whines pitifully, but lets Kallian put the collar on. It snuffles a little at one of her hands and she hesitantly pats its shoulder before withdrawing. The kennel-master asks her to find some kind of flower if she is going out into the Wilds.

Why in the world would she be going out into the Wilds? The idea makes her nervous, but she agrees. If she leaves the camp and sees the flower, she will grab it for him.

She finds the quartermaster and sells him all the equipment she's been carrying since Denerim; all the things she had looted from the Arl's estate to outfit herself and Soris. She hadn't known what to do with it all and there was no time to—what, sneak back in and put it all back?

Anyway, she sells it all to the quartermaster, who doesn't blink an eye at buying random bits of armor and weapons and jewelry from an elf despite the fact he initially comes off a bit rough after mistaking her as another laborer; the reason why becomes clear after he tries to sell her drugs. She shows polite interest, telling him she will consider it later once she's gotten her bearings. For now she picks out a few pieces of armor that suit her better than what she'd stolen from the Arl and then wanders off.

She gets lost several times wandering around the camp, unable to find Alistair. Eventually, she gets turned around enough that she ends up back in front of the Grey Warden tent somehow.

Duncan frowns at her. "Have you not found Alistair yet? I had hoped he would be back by now, but…"

Kallian says, "I got—lost." She cringes with embarrassment.

He shakes his head, almost smiling. He takes her hand and turns the palm up. "Imagine that we're here," he says, touching a place on the heel of her palm, and traces a map on the rest of it, pointing out the mage and templar encampments which Kallian has walked around a few times already, the location of the quartermaster, the healer, the platform the Chantry sister has been preaching from. "I have been hearing some rumors," he adds grimly, "and I suspect Alistair is here. You'll have to go up the stairs here…"

And with all that information in mind, Kallian makes her second attempt to find Alistair, and runs right into Nessa again.

"Kallian!" Nessa exclaims, and drags Kallian into a dark space between two smallish tents for storage. "Finally, a moment alone! What are you doing here? Is Soris here? What about your husband?"

"Nelaros is dead," Kallian blurts out and when Nessa reels back in surprise, hurriedly adds, "My husband. Humans killed him. I…killed them after and so… But Soris is fine. It's just me here."

"Oh," Nessa says after a moment. "I'm sorry, Kallian. I didn't get to meet him, but I know that your father really wanted you to be happy. I'm sure—Nelaros, was it?—was wonderful. That explains everything, I suppose. You're lucky, you know. The Grey Warden seems nice." She shrinks in on herself. "Oh, Kallian. I never thought either of us would be here. I thought if I was good, then… Well, I guess it doesn't matter now." Nessa begins to weep.

Kallian instinctively pulls the younger girl into her arms, stroking her back. "There, there," she says.

Nessa allows it for a few moments before pulling away, wiping her eyes. "I'm sorry, Kallian," she whispers. "It's just been so hard, you know? But Papa was right, there is work to be had here, money to be made, even more than if we'd stayed in Denerim. Especially if you're willing to… Well, you've got your Grey Warden." Her eyebrows draw together sharply and she looks at Kallian seriously. "The girls here are very close-knit, you know, even the humans. If he ever does anything or doesn't pay you as you deserve, you come tell me and I'll make sure all the girls know about it. We've got to take care of each other here. No one else will."

Kallian's mouth falls open. "Of course," she manages, too surprised to correct the misunderstanding.

"He pays you well?" Nessa presses, clutching one of Kallian's hands. "It looks like it, what with this nice armor he's got you in to protect you; he knows that you can fight, then? And encourages it? That's good. He doesn't hurt you if he's like that, then, right?"

She's staring at Kallian with huge, worried eyes, and Kallian realizes belatedly that she's still waiting for an answer. "Yes, Nessa," Kallian says softly, incredibly touched by Nessa's instinct to help and protect her. "Thank you."

Nessa lets go of her hand, presses a quick kiss to her cheek. "Of course," she says, echoing Kallian's words. "You were always sort of like the big sister I always wanted, you know. If there's anything I can do for you, just tell me and I'll do my best."

"The same to you," Kallian promises, leaning in to press a kiss to Nessa's forehead. Valora had said something like that, too. Kallian doesn't feel anything like capable of doing such sentiment justice, but she will do her best. "Anything."

Nessa manages a brief smile and then scampers off again.

Kallian briefly puts her face in her hands. Maker, _what_ is she doing? She shakes her head to clear it, takes the stairs up, and then finally, finally finds Alistair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, the first time I played DA:O, I really did get super lost and run in circles for ages in the Ostagar camp. It's not even a very complicated map, I am just very stupid.


	3. Chapter 3

Kallian's future brothers-in-arms are less than inspiring. There is Ser Jory, who reminds Kallian a little of King Cailan in how earnestly honored he is to be among his fellow Grey Warden aspirants; Alistair, who makes Kallian long for Ser Aveline and her stern good sense; and then there is Daveth, who cheerfully admits he hadn't at all expected her to be an elf and also seems to have an unending stream of elf-related thoughts he simply must share.

"I helped smuggle a mage elf—or is it elf mage?—out of Kirkwall once. He said he was going to try to find the, eh, what was it? Boglings or sommat like that?" Kallian is momentarily stymied by _boglings_ before her mind sluggishly makes the connection to the Dalish. He unintentionally talks over any possible attempt at correction, saying, "Well, whatever it was, I hope he found 'em. Boglings can't be nearly as bad as some of the shit I saw in that city." He shudders. "Kirkwall is a disgusting place. Can you believe they look down on Fereldens? They think us all mud-covered farmers! Well, good riddance to them, I say. They can keep their shitstain of a city! And I mean literally, there are actual shit stains _everywhere._ "

"Well," Alistair says, "this was edifying. Oh, look. Darkspawn! Just in the nick of time. Convenient monsters, aren't they."

"I don't know if convenient is the right word for them," Ser Jory says, missing the sarcasm entirely. Alistair and Daveth roll their eyes, and then the darkspawn are upon them.

By the time Ser Jory cuts off the head off the fifth genlock that would have cut Kallian in two, she has mostly come around on them all. Daveth has proved to be a scoundrel with a heart of gold, and teaches Kallian a few extra archery tricks and also how to pickpocket. She drops Ser Jory's coin purse three times in the process, but eventually she gets the hang of it. He's spent quite some time in Denerim as well, and his interest in the Alienage comes off somehow less shallow than the king's.

"Seems to me it's a bit safer than otherwise," he says thoughtfully. "Sometimes the worst of people come out and the guards aren't like to run to help if you know what I'm saying. I mean," he addresses Kallian, "you know what I'm saying. I only added it for the benefit of these idiots."

"Hey," Alistair says.

"Which idiots?" Ser Jory asks, but they all just shake their heads because they've figured out that he's just an uncomfortably decent man who isn't stupid, exactly; he just would never consider doing such horrible things, and so he can't imagine anyone else doing them either. If the world was filled with Ser Jorys and Ser Avelines, likely no one would have to worry about needing a protector ever again.

Even if Ser Jory seems excessively nervous about darkspawn, and that even before they showed up. He talks of a wife he loves and a babe on the way. Perhaps he was more valiant before he gained such precious things. Kallian herself is less nervous than she expected. She supposes that's the benefit of having nothing left to lose except her life.

"Isn't having all the elves in one place just painting a larger target though?" Alistair says, then blanches. "Er. Not that—I mean, er. Never mind."

"Perhaps we might focus on other topics," Kallian suggests repressively, and is saved from the conversation by more darkspawn.

Three attacks later, Kallian realizes she still has Ser Jory's purse. She slips it back in place without him noticing.

Daveth catches her eye and winks.

"I don't have anything against elves, you know," Alistair says later. "I really don't. I'm very against bad people doing bad things. I was just thinking out loud, but I've reflected on it and I've decided that perhaps it was not a particularly inspired thought to share."

"I'm a little busy right now," Kallian says tightly, ducking and rolling out of range as a hurlock's sword comes sweeping through the air.

"Right," Alistair says, mostly to himself. "That makes sense. Watch your head."

She ducks again as Alistair swings and cuts the hurlock in two and then turns and bashes his shield into a coming genlock. He is surprisingly reliable in that way.

Kallian takes a quick, steadying breath, and swings her crossbow from her back and grimly takes aim.

Morrigan and her mother bring a whole new side to all of Kallian's companions again. Alistair, who had proven himself to be a steady leader and guide becomes defensive and glib in his suspicion; Daveth, who barely blinks an eye at darkspawn, becomes a child shaking in his boots; and Ser Jory becomes impatient with both of them, unimpressed by either woman's arresting appearance. He even drags out a little sarcasm directed at quailing Daveth.

 _Witch of the Wilds_. Kallian has never heard of such a thing. The men seem to expect them to turn them to frogs, especially Alistair. Men can be so strange about women sometimes; Morrigan is rightly suspicious of them for venturing into the lands surrounding her home, but not unreasonably so. She asks questions instead of attacking and willingly leads them to her mother and the Grey Warden scrolls when Kallian asks politely.

Flemeth says many strange and cryptic things, but it is not that different from the way Valendrian sidesteps direct questions with his dry tone that implies he knows more than you are willing to admit or the way Alarith spins his stories with grand gestures so you don't see the twist coming. Sometimes elders just like to make things confusing. It's not really a dangerous trait.

Maybe it is just the threat of a dangerous woman, though that doesn't explain why they seem fine with Kallian. Unless they don't see her as dangerous?

Kallian cannot decide whether the idea pleases her or not.

As Morrigan escorts them back to the camp, Kallian finds herself falling in step with the other woman, the men falling a few steps behind. When Kallian glances back, she sees that Alistair's hand is on the hilt of his sword.

That seems rude. Kallian doesn't want to draw attention to that, though, so she says to Morrigan. "Thank you. You have been helpful when you had no reason to be."

Morrigan gives her an unreadable look out of the corner of her eye. "It was no trouble. I was only curious what in these Wilds of mine might so interest the king's soldiers, and then my curiosity was sated. No more, no less."

"I see," Kallian says, and falls silent again.

After a moment, Morrigan says, "I did not expect one such as yourself to be among them."

Is this…small talk? How un-witchy of her. "Oh?"

Morrigan tilts her head and elaborates: "I did not realize that the king allowed women into his army. Or elves."

"You are not the first to say such," Kallian says. Indeed, nearly everyone Kallian has talked to today has said it. The aplomb with which Duncan had conscripted her had given her the impression that it was not uncommon; the reactions to her arrival have convinced her otherwise. She thinks of Ser Aveline. "Women, at least, appear to be not so unusual."

"Surprising and yet not," Morrigan comments. "The minds of men are not so easily changed, but they do, it seems, change."

"Sometimes, yes," Kallian agrees.

Morrigan hums. "And what of your mind? Has it changed?"

This has the sound of a test, the way Flemeth's every probing question had seemed designed to uncover more of what Kallian did not intend to reveal. "From what?" Kallian asks. "I did not leave the city I was born in until I came here, and I have learned that many things exist outside of what I used to know. This place and its unique qualities are just as new and strange to me as any other I have encountered so far."

"Intriguing," Morrigan says. "And do you find that you dislike strange things?"

Kallian looks at her now. Morrigan looks back. They continue walking.

"I have not tired of them yet," Kallian says finally, turning her eyes ahead again. "Though I confess I do not expect to survive the coming battle. Perhaps that lends itself to a newfound appreciation for strangeness." She is surprised she is revealing so much. She resolves to stop.

"We can find our way from here," Alistair announces from behind them, and Morrigan and Kallian turn to face him.

Morrigan nods. "Then I bid you farewell." She pauses, looks to Kallian once more. "Until we meet again."

Kallian blinks back at her. Morrigan does not wait for a reply before fading out of view.

Daveth shudders. "Good riddance," he mutters.

When Duncan reveals the Joining for what it is, Kallian has to take a moment to close her eyes and find within herself again her convictions. It is there, small and enduring, her commitment to do whatever she can to protect the people she loves.

When she opens her eyes again, she is ready, as is Daveth.

Daveth tries, but he succumbs.

Ser Jory flinches, and Kallian watches with sorrow when he meets his end also on Duncan's sword. She extends a prayer to the Maker for his wife and babe. She would not have cared so much for a human before, but here she is, grieving for men she has met only hours ago. Many strange things.

Kallian does not succumb. The pain is unimaginable, as are the visions and the sound of the Archdemon shrieking— _singing?_ —unbearable.

Or not so: Kallian bears it. She survives.

"How do you feel?" Duncan asks, his voice gentle again.

"It's over," Kallian grits out, nearly a question. The pain fades quickly, and she breathes a sigh of relief. "I'm fine."

Alistair speaks of dreams. Is that what woke Duncan in the night? He also gives her a pendant of blood, for remembrance. She puts it on, but thinks it gruesome. She does not wish to remember this moment, just as she does not wish to remember Vaughan's death throes or the blood between Shianni's legs.

How many more horrors do they expect her to bear that they think she will forget such memories?

Glumly, she follows after Duncan and Alistair for some kind of meeting with the king. They leave the corpses behind. She wonders who will give them their rites.

Strangely, she and Alistair have been given orders to stay out of the fight. It is somewhat anticlimactic to find that Kallian has been training and watched two men die so that she can be qualified enough to light a fire.

Her and Alistair's protests are met with sternness. Duncan reminds them of their station and their duty, admonishes them for wanting to counteract a king's orders even when they are clearly self-serving in a dream of glory. At least, Kallian decides as graciously as she can, he is not cruel. A cruel son of an arl can already do so much. Kallian does not like to think what a cruel king might be capable of.

Alistair sulks and grumbles about a king's orders, says some nonsense that nearly makes Kallian laugh at its absurdity because _everything_ seems absurd now.

Duncan is not amused.

Still, when Duncan goes to take his place on the front lines, Alistair says a prayer for him, suddenly shaken into something more genuine and afraid. Alistair cares about Duncan, Kallian realizes. As a mentor, as someone to look up to. He hasn't seen Duncan mussed and humorous and generous with kisses in the morning, but the bond between them is no less meaningful. It makes her shy away from reaching out to Duncan the way she wants to.

"May he watch over us all," Duncan says gravely before he walks away.

Kallian clenches her fists, feeling the two-set of wedding bands tighten around her finger and then she stutters out, "Alistair, I… I will be right back, I promise."

He hesitates, she sees it, but nods.

She follows after Duncan, and he lets her tug him into a shadowed corner. There, he lets her clutch at his hands. "Duncan," Kallian says, her voice shaking only a little, "is this truly what you brought me here for? It is madness that I am to stay safe and out of the way while you face death."

"Oh, love," he says, startling her. She has not thought of their relationship in terms of love until now, but now that he has said it, she can't shake it. Until he came into her life, love meant her father and the Alienage, community and home. Can it also be mud caked in her hair and quiet companionship on the road, a shared sense of duty and apprehension of what the future might bring? She wishes now he hadn't said it, but also cherishes it greedily. "You of all people know what we want rarely matters."

Kallian had never considered that she might be the kind of person who could fall in love so quickly. First Nelaros, and now Duncan. She had thought herself too sensible for such things. What a terrible way to find out otherwise. Two for two in lovers dead.

She has been a fool.

Kallian tilts her head up and he leans down. A quick kiss. Nothing to write home about, nothing Kallian plans to remember, but lingering and gentle. A good enough goodbye if it comes to that.

She lets go of his hands. She steps back. "Okay," Kallian says. "Okay."

He nods. "Good," he says.

They turn away from each other to go their separate ways. Kallian does not look back.

Kallian wakes in an unfamiliar place, stripped to her smallclothes and covered in bandages.

Morrigan is speaking to her, coming around the bed and looking pleased that she has regained consciousness. At first the sight of the other woman is so incongruous that Kallian can only stare.

"The army," she says, grasping for memories. "The king…"

Morrigan is speaking, explaining, factual but not unkind. Her words hit like a heavy blow to the chest, the impact of an ogre's fist when it sends her flying through the air.

Betrayed by Loghain. The king, Duncan, the Grey Wardens, Ser Aveline, all dead. All left for dead by a man they trusted. Nessa, her family…

She collects herself, gathering her emotions in a small ball and tucking it away to be dealt with later.

Kallian has survived, at least. She can be grateful for that. Morrigan is surprised when she says so, deflecting the praise to her mother.

Even from inside, she can hear Alistair's voice rising and falling with his agitation. Morrigan has to help Kallian stand, and then dress, and then walk so that she may see him for herself. She is relieved to see him alive, even if he is ranting in his grief. He calms significantly when he sees her, which is a relief.

He insists the Arl of Redcliffe will help him, that he is a good man. Kallian's only experience with arls is with their sons, who have only tormented her. She is reluctant to believe in his inherent goodness as Alistair does, though she does not tell him so. All she can do is carefully point out that Loghain was widely considered to be a good man as well.

Somehow the conversation twists, and Kallian finds herself tasked with raising an army to fight the darkspawn as a traitor to the crown tries to prevent Grey Wardens from entering the country to help. Flemeth speaks to her as if her opinion matters, as if she is capable of leading this show, and Alistair does the same, speaking to her as if she is his commander and he is trying to advise her the best he can.

Kallian has officially been a Grey Warden for less than a day, and yet somehow she ends up leaving Flemeth's home in the Wilds with a former templar and an apostate, and a sinking feeling that she is woefully unsuited for the great task that has been laid before her.

She also gets a dog.

Bemused as the mabari that warned her about the hurlocks prances happily in front of her, Kallian says, "I've never had a dog before." Part of her is hesitant to accept its loyalty; elves do not own _war dogs_.

The greater part is flattered that it has chosen her, not as an owner, but as a partner. 

There is an Archdemon to kill and a nation on the brink of civil war to unite against it. Duncan is dead, the king is dead, and Kallian is no longer an elf of the Alienage. She is a Grey Warden.

She can have a damn dog if she wants.

"What are you going to name him?" Alistair asks eagerly, more animated than she's seen him since she woke up in Flemeth's hut. "You have to name him!"

The dog rolls onto its back and wiggles delightedly. She reaches out and rubs its belly experimentally; it wiggles some more and huffs when she pulls her hand away. Kallian tries the rubbing again, which appears to appease it.

"I think this same dog saved me in the Tower of Ishal," she says thoughtfully. "My hero."

The dog barks in response.

Kallian smiles. "Hero, then."

"Ugh," Morrigan says.

"That's not a very good name," Alistair hedges.

Well, at least they've finally agreed on something.


End file.
